Your Eyes Open
by Raiining
Summary: Song-Fic to Keane’s Your Eyes Open from “Hopes and Fears”. Ginny sees Harry after OotP. Has no relation to LionSnake Prophecy’s. Just felt like writing a song-fic!


Your Eyes Open

Disclaimer: I don't own anything; all characters and words belong to Keane and J.K.R., and whomever she shares them with

Summary: Song-Fic to Keane's Your Eyes Open from "Hopes and Fears". Ginny sees Harry after OotP. Has no relation to LionSnake Prophecy's. Just felt like writing a song-fic!

_Hey guys: I know most of you reading this will be followers of my on-going Ginny story. Sorry – no update at this time. I know, I know – it's been forever. Med school app's go in on the 1st, though, so I'll have more time once this hurdle is out of the way. I just wanted to write a song-fic this afternoon, so I gave into my nagging Muse. She was getting annoying! **Bells**, I know I didn't give you this one to beta. But I figured it wasn't worth it, since it's just a fun story to read with no real sequel planned. Of course I can write a sequel ... if I get enough reviews. So go on! Hit that button!_

_Like most song-fics, this one is best read while listening to Keane. Virgin Radio (out of London, and available on the net) plays him a lot. I wanted to mention them in here actually, but figured I might get sued. Sued bad._

_Enjoy! Life Love Laugther!_

_Raiin_

Ginny Weasley tossed a lock of bright red hair, heavy with water and shampoo, over her right shower as she sang in an off-key voice, "I _love_ rock-and-roll, put another dime in the juke-box, _Baby_! I _love_ rock-and-roll ..."

The almost-fifteen-year-old witch bellowed into the shower nozzle, shampoo running down her wet shoulders, with out any fear of waking someone up. Her ever-considerate mother had strengthened the Silencing Charm on the upstairs bathroom at Grimmauld Place last week for this very reason.

Water resonating with the music, the youngest Weasley rubbed conditioner into her long hair – _with me! Bam-bam – Ya! Bam-bam_ – as she caught a glimpse around the shower curtain of her newest acquisition, the portable muggle radio she had found in her parent's attic.

The move from the Burrow to Grimmauld Place had been hectic, loud and rushed. Still unable to use magic outside of school, Ginny had left most of the packing to others. Instead, she wandered through her bedroom closet, her brother Ron's room, and finally the Weasley attic. The ghoul had been unusually silent all day, and Ginny had seized her last opportunity to explore.

It was in the attic that Ginny had stumbled upon the muggle radio. It had obviously been charmed by her father years before, because the plug where the elekrict ... something or another ... was supposed to go was empty, but when she turned the dial loud muggle music blasted from its small speakers anyway. Ginny had grinned and cranked up the volume, tucking the small radio under one arm. Since that afternoon, she had hardly been without it. She could never get it to pick up the WWN, but had been amazed at the number and variety of muggle radio stations she had discovered, especially once they moved to London.

With the forced normality of the night before – impossible to maintain as Professor Dumbledore personally escorted Harry through the front door of Grimmauld Place – and the doubtless tip-toeing around him that was sure to begin this morning, Ginny had decided to start the day off with a fast beat and lots of guitar. She turned off the water as the radio announcer took over the morning news, apparently the muggle parliament was announcing some new bylaw today, and peacefully toweled dry her hair. There was something infinitely relaxing about listening to the muggle news: to them there was no war, no danger. It was nice to forget, amid all the chaos and anxiety in their lives, that not-to-far-away life was continuing much as always.

"You should try it up this morning, honey." It was the nasal female voice of the slightly fogged-up mirror. "It would look _so_ nice in a downside-down French Twist."

Ginny merely laughed and tied a white fluffy towel securely around her chest. She held the towel in place with her left hand as she reached over and picked up the radio with her right.

"It _would_ look nice! Show off that swan neckline of yours," the mirror continued. Ginny caught a glimpse of her reflection and shook her head; only dark witches and wizards would charm a bathroom mirror to give beauty tips on a Saturday morning.

"It needs to dry," she spoke by way of explanation as she headed towards the bathroom door. "And besides, there's no one to go out and look nice _for_."

That was certainly true. Dean owled weekly, and Ginny owled him back, but they had firmly been denied from seeing one another over the summer holidays. It was simply too dangerous for Ginny to venture outside of Headquarters, and the Order didn't want anyone else outside their ranks to know the location of Grimmauld Place. It wasn't safe, for Dean's sake, though Dumbledore was still the Order's secret-keeper.

"What about that nice black-haired boy," the mirror insinuated slyly. Ginny stopped, her hand on the doorknob, "He's a good looking wizard, and just about your age, too."

Tucked beneath her arm, the news had finished with a heat wave in France and another "great half-hour of hit songs" was about to begin. Ginny hardly heard the music now though. She stared at the mirror, who for its part had fallen mercifully silent.

Ginny held the silence for another moment longer. "Harry," she finally replied, her voice touched with more than a little frost, "is none of your concern."

The mirror, however, was certainly possessed by dark magic. "You could have him, you know,"  
it continued in a rush, "a pretty thing like you – a little bit of effort on your part and ...."

The mirror trailed off as Ginny burst out laughing. She held her radio carefully to her side, her arms shaking with the force of her belly laugh. How could she – _why_ would she – explain to a _mirror_, for Merlin's sake, that she didn't want to "have" Harry? That she didn't want to put any effort into looking nice for him?

No, Ginny Weasley shook her head, ever since that moment half-way through the second TriWizard task, Ginny had known what she wanted from Harry Potter. And it was nothing a sixteenth century mirror could ever understand.

She wanted him to trust her; she wanted him to confide in her. She had realized that over the years, her silly little girl's crush had transformed into something much more lasting. She didn't _like_ Harry Potter; she _loved_ Harry Potter. And because she loved him, because she knew him, Ginny understood that he didn't need to love her back. He didn't need to fall for someone, especially her, at this point in his life. All he needed was someone to trust, someone who wouldn't coddle him or tell him lies. Someone to help him get through ... everything. But until Harry realized that, Ginny Weasley wanted nothing to do with him. There was no point in pushing him to admit something he couldn't understand, and Ginny would only get herself hurt in the attempt. No, Ginny would not put any special effort into looking "nice" for Harry; he had to come to his own realizations now.

Turing to the mirror, Ginny realized it had been making rather huffy noises for the past several moments. "Sorry?" She managed to ask, gaining control over herself.

"I _said_," the mirror repeated irately, "that I wouldn't consider it such a laughing matter. That boy is clearly dealing with a lot at the moment and it would do good if you ..."

Ginny cut the mirror off with a knowing smile, "I can't help him until he decides to help himself. Until then, Dean is my first priority. And since _he's_ not here right now, I won't bother with putting my hair up into a French Twist." Ginny laughed and opened the bathroom door, "Later, _honey._"

The hallway was empty. An excellent state for it to be in, Ginny thought, as she was venturing into it with only a towel to cover her. She chuckled to herself, and for a moment her slight cover slipped a little towards one side. Quickly, Ginny caught the falling fabric in her left hand. With her right hand still grasping the radio, a fast guitar piece ending on a string of vibrating notes, Ginny imagined she looked quite the sight.

With a spring in her step, Ginny walked down the old hallway of Grimmauld Place, quietly humming to herself as a new song began. The melody was jaunty, but Ginny remembered this tune. It started out quick, but the words were too sad for comfort. If she had possessed a free hand, Ginny would have quickly turned the station. On a morning like today, she wasn't about to abide sad music. But a wooden door propped slightly ajar down the hallway caught Ginny by surprise. Without really thinking, she walked towards it as the radio, now forgotten, hummed beneath her arm.

_Well it's a lonely road that you have chosen ..._

Ginny walked to the open door, leaned over and looked in. A mass of untidy black hair greeted her. Harry was lying, still fully clothed, on his bed. His feet were propped up by his headboard, his head hung over the foot of the bed. Ginny stared at the still figure, her eyes running over his wrinkled clothes. He hadn't slept all night, she could tell.

_Morning comes_

_And you don't want to know me anymore_

Ginny stood, frozen in the doorway. In the morning light, she could see the dark circles under Harry's eyes, the gauntness in his cheeks. His eyes themselves were closed, but his breathing was even, his shoulders tight.

_And it's a long time since your heart was frozen_

_Morning comes _

_And you don't want to know me anymore_

Ginny's breath hitched in her throat. He looked terrible, as if he were carrying a perpetual weight the rest of the world never saw.

A tiny cry must have escaped her, because in a flash Harry's eyes flew open. Ginny stared at him, forgetting the world as the radio sang on.

_For a moment your eyes open and you know_

He did know. Ginny could see it. The pain in his face, the tightness around his jaw ... for a moment, caught by her worry, they melted away. She could see the terrible desire in his eyes, the need to talk to someone – anyone. He was drowning in his own pain and she offered him a release. An open ear.

_All the things I ever wanted you to know_

Ginny forced herself to breath. She stared back at him, willing him to give into the knowledge in his eyes. She was here. She would always be here for him.

_I__ don't know you and I don't want to_

_Till the moment your eyes open and you know_

There was more than pain behind his gaze, however. There was guilt; guilt over Sirius, over Cedric, over all those who had died because he – Harry – was involved in their lives.

Look at me! Ginny wanted to shout at him, I'm only alive because of you! I know the danger, and I accept it willingly!

But she held her tongue. She needed _him_ to understand, not simply listen to her rant.

_T__hat it's a lonely road that you have run to_

_Morning comes_

_And you don't want to know me anymore_

His eyes narrowed, and a little of the brilliant green slipped beneath his shadow of guilt. Ginny wanted to vault over to his bed and take him in her arms. She wanted to let him cry, let him yell. She wanted him to let her be there for him.

_And it's a lonely end that you will come to_

But he wasn't ready yet. Ginny watched as the tenseness returned to his face. She watched as he carefully looked away from her towards the ceiling, towards the reflected sunrise, and closed his eyes.

Ginny stood in the hallway for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she closed her own eyes, her brown gaze folding in upon itself. Opening them again with new determination, Ginny clutched her towel even tighter around herself and set off towards her room. A letter from Dean should arrive for her with the morning post, and mum would need help with the dishes after breakfast ...

Forgotten, her radio ended its tune from beneath her arm with a mournful howl, the only witness as Harry Potter opened his eyes into tiny green slivers, and watched Ginny Weasley walk away.

_Morning comes_

_And you don't want to know me anymore_


End file.
